Øya 2011

Saturday, August 13

__WU LYF [Vika Stage; 7:40 p.m.]

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The great thing about seeing Wu Lyf live is that you can sing along as loudly and drunkenly as you please without ever having to know a single lyric. Ellery Roberts' clawed voice and garbled diction has been the subject of curiosity as well as skepticism, but in a country where there are so many languages being spoken at once, it's nice to all have some time to shout together. The lyrics might've been sung in Norwegian for all I (or Roberts, for that matter) knows. And for a band with a buzz the size of Wu Lyf's, the people were out in droves, eager to see if these Mancunian firebrands could deliver live.

And they did, but only sort of. Part of Go Tell Fire to the Mountain's charm lies in the great cathedral where it was recorded. Without that crucial element, nearly everything sounded rounder and flatter-- the stinging guitar and Tom McClung's falsettoed "yoo-hoos" had a harder time piercing through. The stronger material seemed to hang on a bit better ("Cave Song"), but moments where things should have just clicked-- like during closer "Heavy Pop", when flocks of migratory birds came flying out over the stage and into the city, like the Blue Angels-- but it seemed that, at only a half hour, the guys kind of gave up. It meant that the sweeping "Heavy Pop" was significantly shortened, and I was able to make my way over for the sure-to-be-packed Jamie xx set.

__Jamie xx [Klubben Stage; 8:40 p.m.]

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I'd witnessed staggering head counts in the Klubben throughout the week, but Jamie took the cake. And he really brought his A-game-- working with a predictably unflashy set-up and modest club lighting, he had this crowd moving harder than any I'd seen all week, his beat-heavy creations and walloping nu-house and dubstep concoctions boiling down to a party in a can. I immediately got excited at the prospect of a bootleg of this that, at very least, would have teenagers shelving their Deadmau5 records once and for good. Meanwhile, most of the people squeezed at the front had a different set of prospects on their mind.

I hadn't witnessed many public displays of affection since arriving in Norway, save for a stolen peck or some hand-holding. It suddenly seemed like everyone that'd been on their best behavior all week was just waiting for this darkly lit tent and the savagely carnal club knock it housed: Even though Jamie's almost too-clever inclusion of a distorted vocal from Minnie Riperton's "Inside My Love" felt inspired, these hormonal kids didn't even need the slightest wink to get them started. Sadly, I had to make my exit and head over to my final show of the festival.

__Sebadoh [Vika Stage; 9:10]
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"This is how we do it!," yelled Lou Barlow, after he, Jason Lowenstein, and Bob D'Amico (in Eric Gaffney's stead) collectively blew the opening of "On Fire". I, too, had committed an error, trying to nudge my way up through the hyped, older crowd and landing myself right next to the speaker stack. In exchange for a better view, I officially put my hearing at risk as Barlow and the guys all but guaranteed my early-onset tinnitus. No matter, because seeing Sebadoh this in their element, battling with squirrelly gear ("Our equipment always comes back to haunt us," Barlow explained. "Woah, lo-fi!," Lowstein joked) and running through so many beloved tunes, a good many of them from 1994's Bakesale, hot off the reissue treatment. "Sorry, we have too many songs, we only learned 30 for this tour. No, 31!," Barlow apologized before ripping into a torrential version of "Too Pure".

As I headed back towards the water to give my ears a bit of a break, applause went up for the two girls who stripped down to their skivvies, treaded out into the water, and twirled and splashed to Sebadoh's extra-fervent jamming. It was a perfect summer moment, one of many that the festival goers had been privy to over the past four days. But Oslo was tired, and I was too. I'm suddenly reminded of Steve Coogan, playing Factory Records creator Tony Wilson in the film 24 Hour Party People, during the opening scene where our hero takes a hang gliding lesson: "Well, I'm battered and bruised, I've done something rather unfortunate to my coccyx, I'm slightly upset and I'm utterly elated and I'll definitely be doing it again."